Broken Glass
by M.for.Miracle
Summary: What can She see that nobody else can? Does He really love her?... The Castle in danger, that is the only thing known for certain. Marcia is hiding things from Alther, the Fates are hiding something from Morwenna, Septimus doesn't know where to run.
1. Chapter 1

**CHARACTERS BELONG TO ANGIE SAGE**

_Howdy. I've been reading "grown-up" novels, now that my library card permits me access all areas. And I've drawn quite a bit of inspiration from the likes of Danielle Steele and Jackie Collins. Not too much, as there is a limit to exactly how much colourful cocktail of affairs, abuse and secretaries you can fit into the innocent children's world of Septimus Heap._

_Anyway, here is my idea. It's a story detailing the nightmares and ambitions of our cherished characters, but with a twist. I haven't worked out quite what that twist is yet, but give me time…_

_While we're at it, please can someone else have a go? I'm disappointed that the M domain is all mine still. What happens when I get bored and just write T? So readers. I'm begging you to have a crack at a bit of love and violence…_

_Enjoy!_

- - - - -

Marcia Overstrand opened her eyes and wondered where she was. Her head felt heavy and foggy, as though she had been drugged, She rolled over- and memories of last night came flooding back as she stared at the man's face.

_There had been a party in a disused warehouse. A large group of teenagers and young adults, and a huge quantity of (stolen) cider. Some men had been singing, crude and funny songs._

_Somewhere into the evening, a fight broke out. Watchmen turned up and broke up the gathering. At this point, the man had tapped Marcia on the shoulder._

"_Want to stick with me?" he had asked._

_Marcia was sixteen. She had agreed._

_She finished her drink- that he'd poured for her- and stumbled out into the rain after him. He put his arm around her to help support her._

_By the time they had weaved their way through five or six miles of muddy, twisting alley, Marcia felt violently sick._

_The man- what was his name again?- had unlocked a door and pushed her into a house. Then he'd shut the door. Trapping her inside._

_It was then Marcia realised what he wanted. He must have put something in her cider. But by this time she was weak. She hadn't got the will to say no._

_Everything was hazy around the edges; the man was undressing her, then himself. She could feel fingers, lips, caressing her chest, hands straying across skin. Marcia had never been touched before. It was good, but terrifying at the same time._

_The man was setting her down on the bed, naked and powerless. His hands snaked down her stomach, between her legs, spreading them wide apart. Marcia shuddered at his touch, scared-but not scared enough._

_When he pushed himself inside her, Marcia's few remaining threads of thought blew away upon a gust of horror and fear-induced passion. She gasped and panted, in a deadly brew of torture and lust…_

The same man now lay beside her, naked also, apparently asleep.

Marcia wasted no time in finding her clothes and putting them on. She had no idea where she was, but it couldn't be too hard to spot a familiar landmark and work her way back from there.

"What are you doing?" demanded a voice. Marcia turned around, her hand on the doorknob.

"I'm going." She said coolly. "You got what you wanted. Now I'm going."

"I don't think so." The man jumped out of bed and pulled on a frayed night robe, faded and creased. Marcia ignored him and went to open the door.

The man had crossed the dim, filthy room in a second, and put his hand over hers so she could not turn the doorknob. He could easily break her fingers.

"Let me go."

"No. Not yet, anyway." The man began to push her back into the middle of the room.

"Let. Me. Go." she repeated.

"No." he replied again. "I'm having too much fun. Aren't you?" He hand brushed her cheek, tracing a path across her lips and down her neck.

Marcia could feel the bile rising in her throat, his hot breath on her ear and the side of her face.

"Get off me!"

She shoved him off as hard as she could. He staggered backwards.

"That's not very nice, is it?" he taunted, snatching something up from the table behind him.

A knife.

Marcia backed away as the man advanced on her, until she felt the cold wall flat against her back.

"There's nowhere to run," mocked her attacker. "You can't run anyway."

"Try and stop me." Marcia didn't sound as brave as she'd hoped.

"Oh yeah? Who's gonna help you? It's just you and me gorgeous, you and me. Don't panic, 'cause there's _really_ no point."

He was inches away from her. His eyes inches from hers. The savage blade of the knife inches from her throat, glinting almost hypnotically as she stared down at it.

Her fingers scrabbled at the desk behind her, seeking something- _anything_. They closed around something smooth and cold. A glass.

The man had not noticed her movement. "No-one will notice one girl who's disappeared. Bet you were already missing. They all are. They're found in the end, of course. Some choose to go back home." He grinned a terrible, jagged grin. "Some wash up in rivers. Some rot in alleyways. Some-"

With a desperate cry, Marcia brought the glass smashing against his head. It shattered a sickening crash as it slammed into his skull, dulling his roar of agony and rage.

Marcia didn't wait to watch him fall.

She ran.

- - -

Marcia Overstrand opened her eyes, twenty three years later. She lay shuddering for a while, wondering what could possibly have brought the dream back.

It was a warning sign.

- - - -

Septimus couldn't understand why Marcia was in such a foul mood. All day she had been impatient and snappy, and more than a little pre-occupied.

Maybe she'd had a tiff with a Ghost, or another Wizard. Yes, that was it. Septimus continued his work, taking all the books off the shelf and replacing them in alphabetical order, according to subject then author.

_Wonder who said what?_ he mused as he dusted a shelf in a dark corner. _Probably got embarrassed again. _His thoughts trailed as he re-arranged a section of books on the Other Side. _If she ever gets played a joke on… or faced with a huge spider in public… or her foot stuck in a bucket…_

What Septimus didn't know was that the reason for Marcia's temper was hiding in the shadows, just out of his line of Vision.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Catch up: Marcia is being plagued by this dream she has whenever trouble is coming.**_

_Greetings. My mind is working in strange and twisted ways. Too much Shakespeare coursework. Say hi to a few more characters, who- for the record- I don't own. You'll recognise them if you've read all the books (which you should have.) I made up a couple as well. Spot them._

"Yes!" JoJo cried. "Yes! Go on!"

He pressed down hard, his sweaty fingers knotting into long brown hair.

Marissa responded to his touch, giving her all with her lips and tongue. JoJo seemed to consider it good enough, at any rate.

"Yes!" he cried loudly, putting yet more pressure on her head- making her put more pressure on _his. _ "Yes! Oh! Oh!"

Somewhere in the distance, there was a scream.

- - - - -

"Hello?" Marissa weaved her way through the trees, her electric blue witch's eyes scanning the afternoon shadows.

"It was probably nothing," grumbled JoJo, miserable at the abrupt end to one of the best blowjobs he'd ever gotten.

"Joby-Jo, you can't say that. Someone could have fallen in a wolverine pit. Or been bitten. Or got by a carnivorous tree."

She took his hand and pulled him into the clearing.

"Bryony?"

The young witch lay on the forest floor, her face drained of all colour. At the sight of them she wailed.

"I've broken my ankle!"

"What happened?" Marissa dropped to her knees to examine her witch companion- who wailed again.

"A wolverine picked up Morwenna's sewing bag and ran off with it. I chased, and Froze it, and got the bag back. But then I put my foot in a rabbit-hole and tripped and- ow!" Tears welled in her blue eyes.

"It's a clean break." said Marissa. "We'll get you back to the quarry, and Morwenna will heal it. Come on." She started to pull on Bryony's arm.

"Help me, JoJo?" she enquired. Grudgingly, JoJo dragged Bryony to her feet. Then he remembered that he ought to be a bit nicer to his girlfriend, especially as she was risking a lot to sneak out and see him. So he put Bryony's other arm around hi shoulders and helped her limp towards the Wendron Witches homes in the old quarry (the summer circle had ended a week or two ago).

"I'll take her from here, Marissa told JoJo, when they were just beyond the quarry. "You mustn't be seen, we'll both be in trouble. Bryony dear, you'll keep your mouth shut, won't you?"

Bryony nodded, grateful for the help back. Marissa gave JoJo a quick peck on the cheek, then watched him disappear into the trees.

- - -

There was an undisguised air of panic over the quarry. Witches were bustling here and there, talking urgently. The Witch Mother sat by the fireside, muttering, with a Witch either side of her.

"What's going on?" asked Marissa. "What's happened?"

She set Bryony down and went to Morwenna.

"She's Seeing something," said Bellerra, who was attending to Morwenna. "Something is coming."

"Shapes," muttered the old woman, her eyes darting from side to side. "Black shapes. A rose. A black rose. Beautiful. The thorns. The blood of an innocent. The wound of a sinner."

"What's that supposed to mean?" snorted someone.

"Ssh." Marissa hissed.

Morwenna's eyes rolled back into her head. "A devil walks among us. She has betrayed those around her, led them to believe she has changed. Poison. Blood. The bitter-sweet tears of the innocents and the damned."

She shuddered. The flames of the fire flickered, and twisted. They were becoming shapes and signs, forming themselves into pictures.

_-A dark path,lined with trees or buildings-_

-"Changing." muttered Morwenna. "Always changing"-

_-The Castle, the Forest, the night sky_-

-"A fork in the path. A decision to make. But what will she choose?"

_-A face. Beautiful, devastatingly beautiful. Terrified._

_Or terrifying.-_

With a gasp, Morwenna sat up straight. She shook silently."  
Morwenna, are you all right?"

"Water," she managed to croak.

A glass was pushed into her hand, but she was shaking so much that it fell from her limp, trembling fingers onto the ground, where it smashed.

_A broken glass._

_An omen of evil._

_**Not that long, I know, but that was a good ending and I didn't want to drag out anything else.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Catch up: First of all Marcia had a warning dream, then Morwenna had a Vision. The two may or may not be linked.**_

_Good afternoon, my dear readers. Today you shall witness a portion of bad language, so if you have delicate ears I suggest you relocate to another story. May I remind you all that Angie Sage owns this Darke and Secret Worlde, and that we are merely eager trespassers upon the soil of her talent._

_Are we sitting comfortably? Good. Then we shall begin..._

"No way!" protested Nicko.  
"Chicken!" laughed Jenna. "Chicken, chicken, great big fat chicken that lays square eggs."  
"Go on, Nicko." pleaded Snorri. "Do it for me."  
"Oh all right." Nicko sighed.  
It was midday on Friday, and Septimus, Nicko, Beetle, Jenna, and Snorri were all mucking about in the playing field near the Ramblings. The grass was slightly damp and muddy after last night's rain, and the sky was dusted with trailing strings of greyish cloud.  
"Nicko." said Jenna through her giggles."I dare you to take your tunic off and run around the park three times. Do you accept? Or are you too chicken?"  
"I accept." Nicko cast a despairing look at the other people in the playing field, then stripped down to his underwear and hared off across the soggy ground.  
Unfortunately (for him), wet ground is always slippy. He stumbled to his knees, then tried- and failed- to get back up again. He slid along on his backside for several feet. Eventually he managed to stagger upright and returned to the group, grabbing his tunic.  
"Nice pecs." snorted Snorri. Nicko glowered, blushing."  
"That was two and a half." Jenna pointed out. "But I'll let you off."  
"You fucking better had!"  
"Ooh," Snorri teased. "Temper, temper. Say that again and we'll wash your mouth out with soap."  
Nicko decided to change the subject. "Rupert said there's some party happening in a disused barn at weekend. Anyone up?"  
"If Marcia gives me time off." Septimus replied. "Of course, I won't give her the full reason. Just say I'm doing stuff with friends."  
"I'll come if Sep does." said Beetle loyally.  
"Maybe." said Jenna. "If I can get round Mum."  
"It must be such a pain to be watched all the time." said Snorri. "I'll go, for certain. I don't have to ask permission."  
"Lucky." sighed Jenna "When you're a Princess they check your every move, make sure you're not getting into trouble. What sort of party is it?"  
"The troublesome kind." replied Nicko.  
Jenna grinned. "Cool."

Marcia sighed and closed her book. She couldn't concentrate. The words just seemed to sway and jump about on the page, as though they didn't want her to focus. Like they were conspiring against her.  
Listen to me, she thought. I'm going mad.  
She stood up and strode purposefully towards the window. The courtyard looked bright and normal; Wizards wandered here and there, calling to each other, carrying armfuls of quills and carrots. The gardener wasn't due until next week, and the grass edges were untrimmed and peppered with weeds. The sun shone down upon the scene, making all the colours bright.  
Unreal.  
The courtyard blurred and twisted, almost too quickly to register. The world was washed in black and white. Marcia's vision wrinkled; puckers and indents appeared in front of her eyes. For an instant, just for an instant, a tall woman in a scarlet cloak was striding down the cobbles towards the Tower doors. Then everything burst back into colour again, normality. The Wizards were still scurrying here and there with their ink, parchment and vegetables. A bird was singing, somewhere. It was as though the woman in red had never been there.  
Imagining things.  
Remembering things.  
"Shit." Marcia said under her breath.

Nicko and Beetle had gone back to work, and Snorri and Jenna said goodbye to Septimus at the Tower gates. He made his way up to the top of the Tower, wondering how to go about asking for the weekend off. He thought it would be good if he could get his Forest brothers to go too, and bring their Witch girlfriends. The more the merrier...  
He knocked on Marcia's door and entered. She was flicking through what looked like an old diary, frowning.  
"Marcia..." began Septimus. "I wondered if..."  
"Why don't you take this weekend off?" Marcia suggested, interrupting him. "You haven't seen your family for a while . Go and enjoy yourself, get away from here."  
"Um, okay." Septimus looked suspicious, but did not question.  
"Tell you what," continued Marcia, "You're not needed here this afternoon. I've just got a few things to finish up, then I'm finishing. Start the weekend early."  
"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks."  
Septimus made for the door.  
"Oh, and Septimus?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Be careful. You don't know who's out there."

"I will." Septimus left the room.

Marcia breathed a sigh of relief It had been easy, getting Septimus away. She couldn't be sure of anything. But there was always a chance... she couldn't evacuate the entire Tower, no way. But it was helpful to have her young Apprentice out of the way. Where he wouldn't see... couldn't understand .

It was almost three when Alther came floating through the wall, wearing his best serious expression. "Marcia, there's a visitor." he announced. "Wants to see you in private."  
"What sort of visitor?" Marcia asked, trying to sound calm, even uninterested.  
"A lady. Not local, you can tell. I think she comes from the Port. Short hair, red cloak. Says its important, and you know her. Didn't give a name."  
"And?"  
"And..." Alther hesitated. "She seems trustworthy enough. Honest, and all that. But there's a Darke Aire clinging to her. Almost like she accidentally practised Darke Magyk, however impossible that sounds. She could be a possible threat. Maybe this is a trap. The staircase won't bring her up until you give it the all clear.  
And... there's one other thing. She's got a tiny blade on a chain around her neck. Says she never takes it off. Looks sharp."  
Marcia was thinking, thinking deeply and swiftly. Long-buried memories turned in their graves. Long-ignored warning, long-broken promises. Long-forgotten agony.  
"Bring her up." she croaked.  
Once Alther had gone, Marcia tried to compose herself. She straightened her robes, and examined her face in the mirror. Stern, solid, not scared. Definitely not scared.  
She heard footsteps, and a second later the knock upon her door.  
Three times.  
She took a deep breath.  
"Let her in." she instructed the door. Her head was whirling.  
It couldn't be.  
Rosemary.


	4. Chapter 4

_It couldn't be.  
Rosemary._

**(Ur, yeah, again with 1- don't own Seppie and 2- Warnings of language, sex, violence, drink, and all the other pleasures of life. But anyway... onwards and upwards)**

_When two equals betray each other, it is a case not of who makes the first move, but who is the more skilled at manipulation._

**(Thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate them. Keep 'em coming. The more reviews, the faster I write)**

The woman was tall, taller than Marcia. Her hair was reddish-brown, cut so short it was barely level with her chin. Her eyes glinted, grey and mischievous. She was slightly tanned and freckled, although the hands that gripped the knife pendant at her throat were smooth and manicured.  
The woman raised one narrow, curved eyebrow. "Well Marcia? Aren't you going to offer me a seat?"  
"Er, yes. Sit down somewhere. Coffee?"  
Rosemary raised her eyebrows again. "Is that the best you can do? I thought I knew you, Marcia."  
"Maybe I've changed." muttered Marcia. "At least, more than you think I would have." She crossed to the old cabinet and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the very back. "You haven't changed much." she remarked. "Slightly taller I think, although that may just be the boots."  
"Nice, aren't they?" Rosemary stretched out one slim, black-cat-fur-shod leg. "Turned up in a warehouse I was helping to clear. Fucking bargain, to get them made would set you back a bloody barrel full of gold."  
"Some nasty language you've picked up there," Marcia poured two glasses of amber liquid.  
"Yeah well, the Port's a rough place. Especially at nights." Rosemary took a sip of whiskey. "Mmm, that's not cheap crap. But I didn't come all this way to talk about shoes and swearing. I want to know what you've been doing for the past eighteen years. Tell me everything." She leaned back on the sofa.  
Marcia sat beside her, but deliberately as far away as she could get. "How did you find me then?"  
Rosemary laughed, a deep, gravelly laugh. "Oh come on. ExtraOrdinary Wizard. Congratulations on that, by the way."  
"What I should have asked was _why_." Marcia decided. "Eighteen years, Rosemary. _Eighteen sodding years._ Why do you want to try and patch things up now?"  
"Ahem." Rosemary shook her head. "If I remember rightly, it was you who left. Who destroyed it. Who left me, broken, even though it broke you to do so. So it's not me that needs to _patch things up._"  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't get you thrown out now." Marcia was on her feet before she knew what she was doing. Her breath came short, and her eyes prickled, but she shoved all emotion to one side."  
"Because of the past." Now Rosemary too was on her feet, cat-fur heels clicking and read cloak swishing as she moved. "We had a good business, we worked well together. We could have been rich by now."  
"Not good enough. Give me another."  
Rosemary stalked closer, eyes sparkling. She bent slightly to mutter to Marcia, that low, husky tone that was so familiar. "Because you fucking love me."

Septimus sneaked in the palace the back way, so as not to be seen. He quickly found his was up to Jenna's room and knocked. Jenna was throwing a couple of items into a small woven bag Sarah had made for her.  
"Not like you." Septimus nodded at the bag.  
"Change of clothes never hurt anyone, just in case." Jenna grinned, and rummaged in the bottom of the bag. "And I need somewhere to put this."  
"Castle Original. Matured in oak barrels for forty years." Septimus read off the label, his tone going up at the end in question.  
Jenna took the bottle back off him and took a swig, offering some to her brother.  
"Means lethal, pighead. A few drops of this and you're out. It's Dad's. He won't miss it for ages." Jenna concealed the drink in her bag again. "This teen rebellion thing's fun." she grinned.  
"You're twelve." Septimus pointed out. "Take it easy now, or you'll spoil all the fun for when you're Nicko's age."  
"Fair point. But you sound like a parent. Now, how best to get out without being spotted too closely?"  
"Window." decided Septimus. "I'll go first, then you can chuck your bag down to me."

The moment that the thin, scarlet lips touched hers, all rational thought flew from Marcia's head.  
_Concentrate,_ she told herself. _This is a game of control. Making the enemy play into your hands._  
Rosemary was testing her control, there was no doubt about that. Those urgent, lustful, blood red lips. She groaned at the touch of them.  
_Don't snap now. Show her who's boss._  
That cruel tongue teased at her mouth. Dominance... or desperation.  
_Tactic number one: Let the enemy think they are winning.  
_Marcia groaned again, succumbing to those blood-red lips, that wicked, wicked tongue.

**(Congrats** **to one Miss Camilla Richard for guessing Rosemary's identity)**

Trembling fingers sought each other and gripped tight. Hands fumbled desperately, then broke apart. Marcia stroked the side of Rosemary's face, feeling the smooth skin, brushing auburn fringe from her own eyes. Rosemary trailed her fingers down Marcia's back, curling them around her hips and slowly up her chest. Marcia moved her own hand gently down Rosemary's neck, coming to rest at the tiny blade on the golden chain at her throat. She moved her mouth tantalisingly slowly down the jaw of the woman, until it too touched the miniature knife and the skin around it. She was rewarded with a shudder.  
_A game of control. Of bluff and double bluff. Of manipulation._  
The romantic moment came to an abrupt end as Rosemary gripped Marcia's robe, pulling her closer and securing her mouth back to hers. Her teeth tugged at Marcia's lower lip, urgent and insistent. The pair fell backwards- and landed on Marcia's bed.  
Marcia pulled away from Rosemary's manipulative mouth and trailed her fingers across her stomach. Rosemary shuddered again, with a seductive moan. Her fingers teased at the buttons on Marcia's robe. In a few swift moments, the front hung undone. Rosemary's outer cloths quickly met the same ending. Boots were kicked off, dropping to the floor.  
Black cat fur landed beside purple snake skin.

"Weird of Marcia to let me off without me even asking." Septimus commented.  
"Something strange must be about to happen, and she doesn't want you to be around." Jenna mused.  
"Or she just wanted to get rid of you." Nicko suggested.  
They were walking along the forest path in the vague direction of Camp Heap. The plan was to see if any of the boys wanted to go, and the assortment of Witches that were never far away, if they could get away. Jenna didn't really like the Witches, but they were friends of her brothers so she always acted politely to them.  
"She's had enough of you." Beetle teased. "She wants a bit of peace."  
The others laughed.  
"Hello?" called Nicko, striding confidently into the Camp. "Anyone home?"  
"412." grunted the boy beside the fire. His hair was matted, his face streaked with mud, but his clothes were still relatively clean and whole- courtesy of Aunt Zelda.  
"409!" grinned Septimus. "When did you get back here?"  
"Few weeks." Wolf Boy scratched his nose. "Gone fishing"- he glanced at the sun- "Back in ten. Or twenty." Scratched ear, flicked rat-tail hair from his eyes. "Or thirty."  
"We're going to some party not far from the Port." Jenna said. "An old barn. We came to see who wanted to come. Are you free?"  
"Definitely." Wolf Boy smiled widely, a lopsided, gap-toothed leer. He sprang to his feet and sprinted, panther-like, the few feet across to his bender. When he emerged, he clutched an almost-full bottle of ale. His smile was even broader.

"Christ." Marcia sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. "No-one's kissed me like that for ages."  
Rosemary gave a little giggle. "That was only the kiss, honey."  
"No." said Marcia firmly. "I'm not going there again."  
"Fair enough." Rosemary drawled. "Suppose I need to learn when to control myself. Gonna teach me?"  
"Fuck off." Marcia fished for her clothes. "We still have talking to do."  
"We do. Indeed. Talking. Lots of it. Like, whey the hell did you walk away?"  
"Why didn't you come after me?"  
Rosemary sighed heavily, her ribs pushing her breasts up and down again. "We've been through the same arguments, the same ones. Just with different words."  
"Maybe that's why it ended. Too many disagreements." Marcia turned and sat facing Rosemary as she lay upon the bed. "I didn't leave _you_. I left my problems behind."  
"Oh, so I'm a problem am I?"  
"You left as well. It was a split. The business went down, we both left. So don't you try and take me on a guilt trip."  
"I'll take you on anything." Rosemary purred. Pulling her back down so their lips could meet once more.  
Hands snatched at sweaty flesh, lips snatched at gaping, groaning mouths. The bedclothes trailed around the pair as they rolled over, gasping into each other's mouths. Heaving chests pressed against each other, the friction sensuous. Thighs tangled, spreading wide. Rosemary's hips ground against Marcia's, in a rhytmic, erotic pattern. Marcia moaned at the sensation, but didn't give in. This round, she was going to win.  
She rolled them over so she was on top, and put all her weight into her lower half, then jerked her pelvis forward. She was rewarded with a little scream from Rosemary. _I win_.  
She struggled to sit up, her hands pinning Rosemary down. Her right hand snaked to the blade necklace, resting against damp, white skin.  
"You've still got it, after all this time." she murmured.  
Rosemary twisted under her, her breath still coming short. "Yes." she panted. Her own fingers interlocked with Marcia's and closed around the tiny silver knife. Sat up so suddenly her bony elbows caught Marcia's ribs. "And sharper with age.

**If anyone was wondering how come no-one heard them, I have always imagined there to be Privacy Spells round the ExtraOrdinary's rooms. Reviews=Chapter 4 sooner :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**I haven't updated for, well, months. Whatever. I don't have an excuse, I just altered the entire thing because of what happened in Syren. Syrah is too cool to ignore. Hope you like , and I have to tell the truth here due to a game of internet dares with Team Snufkin (StoriesWithoutSlash before I dared her to change it), the original chapter 5 was written on a plane home from Barbados, hungover, with my best mate's mum asleep and drooling on my shoulder, scribbled all over one of my A level text books I took with . I am not cool.**

Jenna, Beetle, Snorri, the Heap boys, the three young Witches and Wolf Boy argued for at least ten minutes about a shortcut through a particularly dark patch of trees on the outskirts of the forest. Marissa's friend Rachelanne insisted that she Knew pretty much every tree, and Morwenna knew all of them, and that the Witch Mother had never mentioned a copse as shadowed as this on the edge. Edd rolled his eyes and asked how that information helped. "They don't not exist," grunted Erik, backing up his the end Sam announced that he was going to lead them through the shortcut and they should all stick together."Why you?" sneered Bellerra, who had never really liked Sam (which may have had something to do with his refusal to finger her)."Yeah, why should we do what you say?" challenged JoJo."Because I'm the oldest." said Sam firmly. "And because I've got the map."

The shortcut took them into darkness almost instantly. Nobody had thought to bring a torch except for Sam and the twins. Beetle took his inspection light out, and Septimus's dragon ring helped considerably. The path wound sharply round corners, and it was only by shining lights at their feet that they managed to stick to it. At Sam's insistence, they didn't speak out loud, but whispers penetrated the group."What do you think is up with Marcia?" Septimus asked out of the corner of his mouth. "She's been a right grump all day, and didn't bat an eyelid when I asked to go out.""Woman things." shrugged Beetle. "Or someone's cheeked her.""Mm." said Septimus, shining the ring over a pile of damp leaves and something furry and foul smelling. "But she seemed so distant, and a bit jumpy.""Maybe she just had a lot on her mind." Jenna reasoned. "Don't complain, it took me ages to-" she broke off with a scream that was muffled as Beetle flung his hand over her mouth. "Don't scream in the Forest." he hissed."What is it?" asked Septimus."In there," Jenna gasped, pointing ahead into a patch of complete black. "Eyes. Flames, like eyes.""There's nothing there, Jen." said Septimus, slightly worried."No. Nothing there." said , in the silence that followed, they realised that the others were gone.

"Head count." muttered Sam. "Edd Erik JoJo Nicko, three Witches, Wolf Boy and Septimus, Jenna and Cockroach- Beetle I mean, and Nicko's tasty bit.""Nope." Wolf Boy shrugged. "412's gone.""Sep?" Nicko stood on tiptoe, looking round. "Jen? Beetle? You playing a really bad joke or something?"Snorri caught his sleeve. "Ssh. They're not here.""We'll go back and find them then." said Nicko. "They must have just taken a wrong turning.""But there isn't a wrong turning." insisted Rachelanne. "We haven't come to any forks. The path hasn't split.""Yet." interjected JoJo. "I think it does up ahead. Yes! There!"He grabbed Erik's torch and raised it. About twenty feet ahead the path split into two and meandered away."Which way?" asked Wolf unfolded his map, examined it in the bad light for at least a minute. "Doesn't say." he said eventually. "The path has disappeared off the map.""Can't have." argued JoJo."See for yourself." Sam shoved the map under his brother's nose."Shit." said JoJo. "We'd better- come back, you two!"Under cover of the discussion, Nicko and Snorri had turned and ran back down the path into the darkness. "They're alright." said Sam grimly. "Worst thing that could happen is they get muddy. They'll come out the other end. Us, though, we're screwed.""No we're not." said Racheleanne firmly. "We split into two groups, and take a path each. Then we can't _all _get lost. Again." She raised her eyebrows in _told-you-so, ha-ha, I'm-so-not-your-bitch-anymore_ grudgingly agreed. You can't argue with a Witch, especially one who gave better head than even Marissa.

"I think we should double back." suggested Sep, his army training kicking in."No." protested Jenna. "The eyes will see us.""There weren't any eyes, Jen." said Beetle part reassuringly, part derisively."I still think we should go back." said Sep, looking anxiously over his shoulder. "We might see the others.""If we anywhere near them, we'd hear them." said Jenna. She raised her voice. "Nicko? Sam? Anyone?""Ssh!" hissed Septimus. "You don't know what's listening. I know the Forest. I spent ten years risking my life in here, remember?""Course. Calm down, Sep." Beetle shook the silver tin containing his inspection light. "Weird. It never goes out."And then there was a scream.

Morwenna was angry. Her head was filled with half-visions, and she simply could not make sense of them. There was danger, she knew that, but she could not pinpoint where. If it was the Castle, she really ought to tell someone… although there was no hurry. It wasn't like she was the Sworn Protector of Marcia Overstrand."Bitch". she muttered aloud,"Ssh!" hissed the rest of the Seeing Witch Mother had Called a Seeing Circle to help her focus, but it wasn't really working. She had lost her young Witches to an errand they had said they must run and she had cleared (she regretted that now), and the elder Witches were hard work in a Seeing Circle. Imagination diminished with a gasp went round the seven assembled Witches. There was a Prophecy coming.

Nicko was concentrating on acting brave, despite the fact the Forest didn't scare him. No, it was Snorri that was making his heart speed up. Whenever they were alone together, he felt the need to run away and curl up somewhere. She seemed oblivious to this, although now he came to think about it she could be playing a game. She never spoke about the one occasion, more than five hundred years ago, when they had sat on the Castle wall at midnight and shared a proper kiss. And there was no way he would ever dare bring it up."I think they must have gone this way." said Snorri, breaking into his train of thought. "There are footprints in the…" she faltered for a moment. She still forgot words from this complicated language. "Plants?" she gestured at the tangled roots, shrubbery, wet leaves and brambles."Something like that." Nicko held his burning log over the place she had indicated. "Let's go this way." He hesitated for a moment, then took hold of her outstretched hand , leading her on. She smiled. He smiled were still smiling when the flame was snatched from the air and they were plunged into darkness.

Syrah sat up and slid the covers off her. She didn't care that she was supposed to be resting, she was annoyed. The reason for her mood was concerning a boy with messy blonde hair and purple stripes on his sleeve. Septimus hadn't been to see her for a had been there when she awoke, and came to see her every afternoon. He had apparently come every day, without fail, ever since they came back to the Castle. And she had believed him. Then recently, he had only come every other day, then once every three or four days. And he hadn't shown his face for a week. Syrah longed to tell someone about the dream she had had, three nights ago, about a young man watching her at her window. He had looked just like an older version of Septimus…Slowly, Syrah swung her legs over the side of the bed and put her weight on the floorboards. She felt cramped and claustrophobic. She longed to run, like she had run with the Syren, but she was confined to her bed in this little room in the Tower, and she was sick of it. There was a whole new world to explore. After all, she thought, it had been five whole centuries since she had last walked down Wizard Way. Why shouldn't she go now? She stood nearly collapsed back onto the bed, but held firm. Swaying, she crossed to the mirror on the cabinet and saw her reflection squint at her. The Nurse had brushed her hair that morning, and the dark circles under her eyes were getting slowly smaller. She looked fine, she decided. She didn't look they had been feeding her. Food meant strength."I'm strong." she told her reflection. "I'm going out."Her head reeling, she opened the cabinet full of aprons and hospital gowns, until she found proper clothes. Her Apprentice belt was coiled on the beside table, next to several large bottles of medicine and her untouched afternoon meal. She fastened her belt around her waist on the tightest hole. The moment she moved, it slid down to rest on her were no shoes in the room, but this did not bother Syrah. She took a few tentative steps to the door, then opened it. The sick bay was quiet. She hurried through it before either of the occupants registered her, and then she was in the was her immediate plan, but the silver stairs to the top floor looked appealing right now. Syrah stepped onto them. "Top floor." she whispered. Her curiosity was tickled, and she wanted to see her old room, Julius's old . She sighed. He had helped her so much, made her into the person she was now. He had trusted her, forgiven her, helped her mend her mistakes. She was prepared to bet that to his dying day he had never told anyone about the baby. Hopefully he had died peacefully. With his new Apprentice there to see him go. She just wished she had been there…There didn't seem to be anybody at the top of the Tower. She peeked around the open door of what must be Septimus's room. Deserted. Intrigued, she pushed the green door wide open. The green bedcovers were rumpled, as though someone had just got out of the bed. The fireplace was empty, it being summery. Syrah crossed to the grate and stroked the carved wood frame. It was the same fireplace that had been in this room, when it was _her_ room. She glanced around at the personal possessions, the heavy brown boots standing in the corner. Nothing interesting. It was the ExtraOrdinary's rooms she wanted to she closed the door, a thought briefly crossed Syrah's mind. If Septimus died, or left, or whatever, maybe Marcia would invite her to become Apprentice. She would pick up where she left off, just finishing, and never again would she have to worry about the Queste. And the Tower would be hers… Syrah shook off this fantasy. However much she hated Septimus right now, she didn't wish him dead. And Marcia Overstrand was not a patch on Julius Pike, oh was strangely silent up here, she decided. No noise at all. That must mean Marcia was out. Syrah was free to roam, for the moment at least. Summoning her courage, she placed both hands on the cool wood of the door to the ExtrOrdinary's apartment, and pushed.

Bellerra didn't even like Sam. She didn't see why she should commit herself into an unhappy relationship when he never gave anything back. He only seemed to want her when he was in a bad mood, and became possessive and greedy. On his return from his last trip to the Castle he had pushed her without warning against a tree at midnight and took her to Cloud Nine via the wild route, as the Coven would say. Then the next day he had totally blanked her. She was sick of it. Now was the perfect time to end it, she thought, whilst there were plenty of people to watch while she humiliated was trying to examine the map by the rubbish light. Squinting, he unfolded the paper and sat on a boulder to read it. Bellerra perched beside him, uninvited. "Do you love me?" she asked abruptly. Sam didn't answer."Do you love me?" she persisted."No." said Sam quietly."Good." she stood up, raising her voice. "Because I can't stand the sight of you. You only acknowledge me when you want something. This is me ,getting shot of you**!**" she finished."Whatever." Sam shrugged. "Keep the noise down."Furious at his utter lack of response, the Witch drew herself to her full height and screamed, "Go to hell Sam Heap!""No!" cried Sam, dropping his map and springing to his feet. "They'll hear-"The rest of his words were cut off in a blood-curdling shriek. A freezing wind swept through the clearing, extinguishing every light and drilling into bones. There were several more, drawn-out screams, then an awful silence. With shaking fingers, Sam reached for his tinderbox, and re-lit his flickered for a few seconds then died once more, but not before they had all seen the Witch's mutilated body slumped at their feet.


End file.
